Politics
by femalegamer
Summary: Bann Teagan is a handsome, charming nobleman in his late thirties who is unmarried. Ever wonder why that was? Teagan explains in his own words.
1. In Which Eamon Finds a Bride

I was fifteen when Eamon called me "back", the year that the war was not only officially but at long last unofficially over. Since I was two years old when my brother and I had been sent away, my return to Redcliffe was not precisely a celebratory return to a beloved home.

Eamon himself had been back for around five years, participating in the good fight against the Orlesian invaders. He hadn't quite been successful at throwing them all out, however…

Eamon was overjoyed to see me, after five years without my company. Nearly the first thing he did, however, was tell me about Isolde – how beautiful she was, how in love they were. He explained how they had met in a tavern in Redcliffe, while he was organizing some of the more secretive rebels. He assured me that she was a noblewoman, though.

She was an _Orlesian_ noblewoman, the daughter of the man claiming the title of Arl of Redcliffe at the time, to be specific. From what I knew of him, our father, the great general, was probably spinning in his grave like a children's toy. Their love match inspired a great deal of bad poetry and songs, and doubtless a few other Ferelden/Orlesian matches. It certainly made Eamon one of the less popular members of the Landsmeet. Teyrn Loghain in particular despised him I eventually learned when I took my place as Bann Rainsfere.

I get ahead of myself – now that I had warning, Eamon couldn't wait for the two of us to meet, certain that I would love her _almost_ as much as he did.

When we met, I found her pretty enough to satisfy my fifteen year old libido. (In fact, I think that was the first year I tried to take a servant girl out to the stables, though she was smart enough not to give me what I wanted.) Her voice already had that irritating quality that some highborn women have where some of the words kind of – swoop? That odd tendency to go upward in tone for emphasis on words that probably have no business being emphasized.

She was three years older than I, and naturally regarded me as a child. She clearly doted on my brother, and he behaved with the subtle possessiveness of a man insecure with his first real love, though I didn't realize that at the time. Eamon is an intelligent, well-spoken and mostly compassionate man, but he has never been handsome. I believe it was around then that he began to gain grey hairs, though from Isolde's influence or my own, I cannot say.

Mostly, Isolde proceeded to ignore me, with the exception of a few digs to draw Eamon's attention away from his brother and back where it rightfully belonged, on her. She had grown up almost entirely in Ferelden, so we mainly didn't have to endure the standard Orlesian complaints. Life settled into a pattern of neutrality.


	2. In Which Teagan Is Not Interested

A few years passed without much change in the status quo and, as the tales would say, I grew tall and strong. Eamon was off the capital again; the war was not too far in the past and borders, titles and trade rights were still a little shaky. I don't recall what was being decided on that occasion, truthfully. Politics has never held the interest for me that it has for my brother, but it was particularly true at that point in my life, when I was more interested women, warfare and hunting.

As Eamon prepared for his departure, I realized that I was being watched. Isolde seemed to always be glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. Sometimes she seemed suspicious, but other times she looked at me with the half-lidded leisure of a predator pretending sleep while watching a potential meal.

Needless to say I was jumpy from the moment he left, but Eamon continued to think that this woman was Andraste reborn. I had no idea who to go to for help or advice; certainly any other friends would have no sympathy for me; how can a young man complain of being pursued?

Unfortunately, I couldn't just leave Redcliffe; Eamon had tasked me with some aspects of leadership in his absence. I avoided her as much as I could, but there was only so much I could do. In retrospect, I probably should have feigned illness that evening, but I didn't think of that at the time.

The unavoidable situation was a dinner to which some dignitaries had been invited, people of some small rank, but no one that stands out in my memory; I was more than a little distracted, sitting in one of the places of honor, right next to Isolde.

I remember her leaning across me to reach for things. I remember her warm hand on my… thigh. I was no blushing virgin, but this was my brother's wife! I stammered my way through dinner and did my best to ignore it all, difficult though that was. With all the blushing, I must have looked like I was taken of a fever.

As everyone left, she blocked my hasty departure and placed one of those strong hands on my chest. She had been married for five years, and still she was childless, she commented lightly. Leaning in, she whispered to me that perhaps it didn't matter which brother fathered a child, it would still be of the same blood, after all…

I escaped with my virtue, if not my pride, intact, her laugh following me all the way to my room. Clearly she reconsidered her amusement however; I found an unsigned note suggesting I would regret my actions. And, curiously, that I would not inherit the arling.


	3. In Which Teagan Has Girl Trouble

It was not too long, however, that I began looking for a bridge. Twenty was a good age to be married. That and Eamon had decided that if I didn't find a woman soon, I was going to find my death on the end of some farmer's pitchfork or a smith's hammer for despoiling his daughter.

My search was a little more complicated at the time than it would be now. Firstly, with the exception of the Take-What-You-Want attitude of Teyrn Loghain, marrying outside the noble class was frowned on. Things have become a little more casual these days, fortunately. Secondly, we were still recovering from so many nobles perishing under the Orleisians, or executed by Fereldens if they had been sympathizers, or fleeing the country and never returning. Naturally, I wanted to find a woman who could handle occasionally sharing space with Isolde, which wouldn't be easy. Feelings about Orlais also ran much higher in those days, so soon after the war, discounting Isolde's own sparkling personality. Rainsfere is the next best thing to a court title, with a tiny patch of a land just large enough for a manor – it's a collateral title, meaning that I hold it as our father's younger son, rather than the heir.

Kiara was the daughter of a lord in the Southern Bannorn, one that had largely been ignored by Orlais as too small to bother. We met at someone's wedding feast, and carefully arranged to be at several other formal functions after speaking as dance partners. Her hair was coal black and her eyes were velvety brown.

Abruptly, though, discussions broke down before a formal engagement could happen. The grapevine informed me eventually that she had heard rumors that I had a mistress and a bastard son. They were apparently convincing rumors, since nothing more came of things.

I see that you worry, but I wasn't heartbroken; we weren't in love. We found each other attractive in body and mind, a typical match between those of our class. When I found out about the rumors, I was concerned about their origin, but thought nothing more of it.

Eamon and I had one conversation about it, and he suggested that I had some rival for her affections that had interfered. Shortly there after, she did wed someone else, and that seemed to put the matter to bed.


	4. In Which The Plot Thickens

It took a year, but another candidate was found. She was the only child of a bann within the Arling of Redcliffe, so it would also mean it didn't matter if I retained Rainsfere or lost it to a potential nephew or niece someday. Her hair was almost the same honey blond as my own and she gleefully listened to the unfortunate poetry I wrote in her honor. She did not care for dancing, but she made a most extraordinary embroidered shirt as a betrothal gift. I still have it. Her name was Maeve.

She left behind a note, about a common-born lover that she could not leave behind. Her body was found floating in the nearby lake, but no one ever found out who the mysterious lover that she had felt so strongly about had been. Her family was so grieved that they certainly didn't want to talk about any suspicions I had about what had happened. They had their hands full with stupid cousins arriving for the funeral gathering with their hands outstretched, hoping that a title would fall on their heads.

We had been formally betrothed, so it was expected I would go through a proper mourning period before looking again, but it didn't really matter. Such an ill-omened event kept the girls rather far from me for quite some time, even the odd servant or laundress in the stables.

Finally, there was Claire. Her hair fell around her in plain brown curls and she had the most beautiful silver-grey eyes. She and I spent much of our time riding, even doing some light hunting, for she was an excellent shot with the bow.

I was twenty six, and Connor had just been born. He seemed a strong babe, from the little I saw of him. I wasn't allowed to hold him, nor was he left alone that I could tell. I found myself unexpectedly barred from the kitchen of all places.

I was mystified until a wild-eyed Isolde hissed a warning at me: I would not be allowed to harm her Connor.

Two weeks later, Claire, who I think I could have loved, fell while riding and broke her neck. She was a woman that seemed almost part of her horse while riding. I had seen her shoot from horseback, and never, ever have problems with jumps or low-hanging branches.

The column of numbers suddenly added up and I realized that Isolde was plotting against me. I must have been blind to have not realized it until then. Until Conner's birth, I had been Eamon's heir, but what would be the point of becoming Arl without an heir of my own? And so she had kept me from being wed. Or at least I think that's how her twisted mind worked. And now, when Connor became a man, he would take Rainsfere away from me. Oh no, I would become Lord Teagan and not have to keep up that wreck of a house. But apparently this meant I was now out to get her son.


	5. In Which We Realize the Listener

And that was that, for ten years, give or take. After two dead fiancées, no woman wanted a bit to do with me, and I didn't blame them. I certainly pursued none, having a good idea what might happen to them in return. You have a better idea than most how crazy Isolde can be about Connor.

She offered you her own life to save him, but I'm certain she would have offered anyone else if that wasn't good enough. Think of all the castle folk that were killed, just so she could hide his possession. Thank the Maker he's been sent to the Tower, where they can help him.

Well, yes, I realize that could mean Templars cutting off his head, but you survived the experience, my dear.

I hardly need to finish out the tale for you, but it's good to bring things to completion, I think. So, Connor turned out to be a mage, and after you rescued him (along with your companions, of course), he was stripped of his rank and sent to the tower. Isolde is inconsolable, quite literally; she spends much of her time weeping, when she isn't visiting with him.

She had so many difficulties with Connor that the mages say the possibility of a second child now, at her age is very very slight. So that leaves me, since she's hardly likely to encourage Eamon to find a new, younger wife. After all these years, her worst fears have come to pass – she has no choice but to accept that Redcliffe will fall to me someday, though I dare say Eamon is just as hale as he's ever been for the moment. She has only spoken to me alone once since the incident. She told me that "none of it" had been personal – only politics.

Of course, that brings me to you, my sweet. You caught my eye the moment you walked into the Chantry there in Redcliffe, you know. So kind of the King to waive the restrictions on mages and titles to make you Teyrna of Gwaren, wasn't it? And I, personally, can't wait to prove the rumors about Grey Wardens and children completely wrong.


End file.
